First message on OkCupid:
A. I have a name, and it is not “babe.”
B. Maybe don’t refer to my appearance in any way when YOUR photo is of…I’m guessing a door?
Yesterday my friends told me they ran into Guy I Dated For a Minute, and now for some reason it’s all I can think about.
I THINK it’s partly because my doctors are screwing with the drugs I take, so I hadn’t been in the greatest mental place, anyway, but it’s sort of spiraled into a fun rehash of the “not enoughs” — pretty, smart, cool, good in bed… All the things you think you can suck at, I’ve been telling myself I suck at. Like… this dude doesn’t even want to be FRIENDS with me. What the fuck is that? Am I THAT boring? I even offered him friends with benefits and…still no? So I’m not good enough in bed to fuck a third time?
And by the way? The sex was…serviceable. It was good, but not great. It got the job done. And the dude’s nice and all, but I think I mostly saw friendship there. I have no idea why this is bothering me so much NOW. We’ve been not dating longer than we WERE dating, and it HADN’T been bothering me before. I think I’m finally getting that we’re not going to even be friends, and so I just feel gross and used and stupid. Again. (I teared up while writing that, so it’s possible I nailed it.)
The “stupid” is big because I’m attracted to people smarter than I am, in relationships and friendships, and it goddamn blows to not even be friends-worthy.
UGHHHHHH. Bitch, stop being a bitch, bitch!
(Here’s hoping putting this in writing is therapeutic, because my actual therapist is on vacation this week.)
“‘Miscarriage’ by the way, deserves to be ranked as one of the worst, most blame-inducing medical terms ever. To me, it immediately conjures up an implication that it was the woman’s fault, like she somehow ‘mishandled the carrying of this baby.’ F that so hard, right in its patriarchal nut-sack.”
I had a whole thing written about last night’s therapy session, but then I saw this comic from Sarah Andersen, and… Yep, that pretty much covers it.